The Sword and the Stallion - 06

by Michael Moorcock

  "This would seem the best," Ilbrec said, remounting. "What think you, Corum?"

  Corum shrugged. "It is tempting—almost a trap," he said. "As if the folk of Ynys Scaith wished to lure us somewhere."

  Ilbrec said: "Let them lure us, if they will."

  "My feelings, too."

  Without further comment, Ilbrec urged Splendid Mane into the tunnel.

  Slowly the lattice above them opened out until the cracked path widened and they rode down an avenue of stunted bushes, seeing ahead of them tall, broken columns around which climbed the stems of some long-dead lichen, brown and black and dark green. And it was only when they had passed between those columns, carved with demonic creatures and grinning, bestial heads, that they realized they were now upon a bridge built over an immensely wide and dreadfully deep chasm. Once there had been a wall on either side of the bridge, but in most places the wall had fallen away and they could see down to the floor of the chasm, where a stretch of black water boiled and in which reptilian bodies of all descriptions threshed and snapped and yelled.

  And over the bridge there now moaned a miserable wind, a cold, clinging wind which dragged at their cloaks and even seemed to threaten to toss them off the swaying stonework of the bridge and down into the chasm.

  Ilbrec sniffed, tugging his cloak about him, looking over the edge with an expression of distaste upon his features.

  "They are large, those reptiles. I have seen none larger. Look at the teeth they have in their mouths! Look at those glaring eyes, those boney crests, those horns. Ach! I am glad they cannot reach us, Corum!"

  And Corum nodded his agreement.

  "This is no world for a Sidhi," Ilbrec murmured.

  "Nor a Vadhagh," said Corum.

  · · ·

  By the time they had reached the middle of the bridge the wind had increased and Splendid Mane found it difficult to push even his great bulk against it. It was then that Corum looked up and saw what he thought at first were birds. There were about a score of them, flying in a rough formation, and as they came closer he saw that they were not birds at all but winged reptiles with long snouts filled with sharp, yellow fangs. He tapped Ilbrec upon his shoulder, pointing.

  "Ilbrec," he said. "Dragons."

  They were dragons, indeed, albeit scarcely larger than the great eagles which inhabited the northern mountains of Bro-an-Mabden, and they were plainly bent on attacking the two who sat upon Splendid Mane's back.

  Corum stuck his feet into the horse's girth strap so that the wind should not blow him from its back and with some difficulty managed to unsling his bow, string it, and take an arrow from his quiver. He fitted the arrow to the string, drew it back, sighted along the arrow, did his best to allow for the strength of the wind, and let fly at the nearest dragon. His arrow missed the beast's body, but pierced the wing. The dragon yelled, twisted in the air, snapping at the arrow with its teeth. It began to fall, righted itself clumsily, but then began to spin round and round, falling toward the dark water below where other reptiles hungrily awaited it. Two more arrows Corum let fly, but both went wide of their targets. Then a dragon swept in at Ilbrec's head and its teeth grazed against the rim of the giant's shield as he put it up to defend himself, at the same time swinging Retaliate up in an attempt to stab the dragon's belly. Splendid Mane reared, whinnying, hooves flailing, eyes rolling, and the bridge shuddered at this new movement. A fresh crack appeared in it and a piece at the edge broke off and tumbled into the gorge. Corum felt his stomach turn as he saw the masonry go hurtling down. He shot another arrow and this again missed its mark completely, but plunged into the throat of the next dragon. But now they were surrounded by the flap of leathery wings, the snap of sharp teeth, and claws almost like human hands reached out to tear at them. Corum had to drop the bow and draw his unnamed sword, Goffanon's gift. Half-blinded by the silvery light which issued from the metal, he slashed at random at the attacking reptiles and felt the beautifully honed blade slice into cold-blooded flesh. Now wounded dragons scuttled around Splended Mane's legs and, from the comer of his eye, Corum saw at least three fall over the jagged edge of the bridge. And Corum saw Ilbrec's bright, golden sword all dripping with the dragons' blood and he heard the voice of the youth as he sang a Sidhi song (for it was ever the Sidhi way to sing when death confronted them).

  Foes from the east we ever faced; And fearless foes they were. In fifty fights the Sidhi fought, Ere they were clad in gore. Fierce were we in war. Fierce were we in war.

  Corum felt something settle on his back and cold claws touched his flesh. With a shout he slashed backwards and his blade carved into scaley skin and brittle bone and a dragon coughed and vomited blood over his silvered helm. Clearing the chill and sticky stuff from his eye, Corum was in time to stab upward at a dragon who dived down at Ilbrec's unprotected head, its claws outstretched.

  And Ilbrec sang on:

  Lest Sidhi bodies clay should claim, Pray let that clay he known. Let moral heroes sing our fame, In Sidhi soil rest Sidhi bones. In foreign earth we lie alone. In foreign earth we lie alone.

  Corum guessed the meaning of Ilbrec's song, for he, too, disliked the idea of his life being stolen by these mindless creatures, of dying in this nameless place with none knowing how he died.

  At least half the dragons had now been slain or so badly wounded that they were harmless, but the movement of the great Sidhi steed as he reared and trampled the corpses of the reptiles was causing more and more pieces of masonry to fall from the bridge and now a sizeable hole had appeared ahead of them. His attention divided between the potential disaster and the immediate one, Corum failed to see a dragon swoop in on him, its claws digging into his shoulders , its snout snapping at his face. With a strangled gasp he brought his shield rim up, jamming it into the dragon's soft belly and at the same time forcing his unnamed sword into the thing's throat. The reptile's corpse lost its grip and flopped onto the stone of the bridge and at that moment the bridge itself gave way and Ilbrec, Splendid Mane and Corum were hurtling downward to where the swimming things swarmed in the black waters of the chasm. Corum heard Ilbrec yelling:

  "Cling to my belt, Corum. At all costs do not lose your grip."

  And though Corum obeyed, he saw little point in the Sidhi's instructions. After all, they were soon to be dead. But first, of course, would come the pain. He hoped it would not last too long.

  THE SECOND CHAPTER

  THE MELIBANN REVEAL THEMSELVES

  There was a moment when they were falling and then a moment when they were rising, but Corum, preparing himself for death, had not noticed when the change had come about. Somewhat circuitous-ly, Splendid Mane appeared to be galloping into the sky, back toward the broken bridge. The dragons had gone, doubtless unwilling to follow their quarry down to the bottom of the chasm and contest ownership with their larger cousins.

  And Ilbrec was laughing, guessing what Corum must feel.

  ‘The old roads are everywhere,'' he said,' 'and thank my ancestors that Splendid Mane can still find them!"

  The horse slowed to a leisurely trot, still apparently treading thin air, and then continued toward the far edge of the chasm.

  Corum sighed with relief. For all that he had good reason to trust Splendid Mane's powers, it was hard for him to believe in the horse's ability to ride across the water, let alone the air. Once again the hooves touched ground which Corum could see was solid, and the horse came to a halt. Another pathway led through low hills covered in a kind of fungus, multicolored, unhealthy. Ilbrec and Corum dismounted to inspect their wounds. Corum had lost his bow and his quiver was empty—he threw it aside—but the dragons' claws had produced little more than flesh wounds in his arms and shoulders. Ilbrec was similarly unharmed. They grinned at each other and it was plain to both that neither had expected to live on that shuddering bridge.

  Ilbrec took his water bottle from his saddle bag and offered it to Corum. It was the size of a small barrel and Corum had difficulty lifting it to his lips, but h
e was grateful for the drink.

  "What puzzles me," said Ilbrec, accepting the bottle back and raising it, "is the size of Ynys Scaith. From the sea it looks a comparatively small island. Yet from here it appears to be a sizeable land, going on as far as the eye can see. And look—" he pointed into the distance where the hill and the single pine tree stood out sharply, though the scenery all around it was misty—"the hill seems further away from us than ever. There is no question in my mind; Corum, that this place is under a glamor of considerable power."

  ' Aye," agreed the Vadhagh Prince,' 'and I have the feeling that we have hardly begun to understand the extent of it as yet."

  With this, they remounted and followed the path on through the hills until they turned a corner and saw that the hills ended sharply, giving way to a plain seemingly made of hammered copper, shimmering as it reflected the light of the sun, and far away, in what Corum judged to be the center of this plain, some figures stood. Whether the figures were of beasts or of men, Corum could not tell, but he loosened Goffanon's gift-sword in its sheath and he adjusted the shield more firmly upon his arm as Splendid Mane began to trot over the plain, his hooves ringing and clanging as they struck the metal.

  Corum put his hand to his eyes to protect them against the glare of the copper, straining to make out more detail, but it was a long time before he was certain that the figures were indeed human and a longer time before he realized that they were Mabden—men, women and children—and that only a few of the group stood upright. Most lay upon the plain of hammered copper and were very still.

  Ilbrec shook Splendid Mane's reins and the great horse slowed to a walk.

  "Artek's people?" said Ilbrec.

  "It would seem so," said Corum. "They have a similar look to them."

  Still a little wary, the two dismounted again and began to walk toward the group of figures who now stood in such sharp outline against the landscape of hammered copper.

  As they came within earshot they began to hear voices—small moans, whimperings, groans and whispers—and they saw that all were naked and that most of those upon the ground were dead. All appeared to have been burned by fire. Those who stood had red, blistered skins and it was a wonder that they could remain upon their feet at all. Corum could feel the heat of the hammered copper through his thick-soled boots and he could imagine how fierce it must be on bare feet. These people could not have come willingly unclad to the center of the plain; they had been driven here. They were dying, roasting to death. Some cruel intelligence had forced them here. Corum swallowed his anger, finding it almost impossible to understand the minds of creatures who could conceive of such a cruelty. He noticed now that several of the men and women had their hands tied behind them and that they were trying, futilely, to protect those few children who still remained alive.

  As they realized that Corum and Ilbrec had come, the Mabden peered at them in fear through parblind eyes. Blistered lips moved pleadingly.

  "We are not your enemies," said Corum. "We are friends of Artek. Are you the People of Fyean?"

  One man turned his ruined face toward Corum. His voice was like the sound of a distant wind. "We are. All that remain."

  "Who did this to you?"

  "The island. Ynys Scaith."

  "How did you come to the plain?"

  "Have you not seen the centaurs—and the monstrous spiders?"

  Corum shook his head. "We came over the bridge. Over the chasm where the giant reptiles dwell."

  "There is no chasm ..."

  Corum paused, then said: "There was for us."

  Drawing a small knife from his belt he stepped forward to untie the man's hands, but the wretch stumbled backward fearfully.

  ‘ 'We are friends, ‘ ‘ Corum told him again.' 'We have spoken with Artek who told us what had befallen you. It is largely because we met him that we came here."

  "Artek is safe?" A woman spoke. It was possible that she was young, that she had been beautiful. "He is safe?" She stumbled toward Corum. Her hands, also, were secured behind her back. She fell and struggled to her knees, whimpering in pain. "Artek?"

  "He is safe—and about a score more of your folk."

  "Ah," she breathed. "Oh, I am glad ..."

  "His wife," said the man to whom Corum had first spoken. But Corum had already guessed this. "Did Artek send you here to rescue her?"

  "To rescue you all," said Corum. It was a lie he was happy to tell. These people were dying. It would not be long before the last perished.

  "Then you are too late," said Artek's wife. Corum stopped to cut her bonds, and then the voice he had heard in the forest came again from nowhere: "£><? not free her. She is ours now. "

  Corum looked about him but, save that the air seemed to shimmer all the more, he could see nothing.

  "I shall free her, however," he said. "So that she might at least die with her hands unbound."

  "Why do you seek to anger us?"

  "I seek to anger no one. I am Corum Llaw Ereint." He held up his silver hand. "I am the Champion Eternal. I came in peace to Ynys Scaith. I mean no harm to its inhabitants—but I will not see further harm done to these people."

  "Corum ..." began Ilbrec softly, his hand upon the hilt of Retaliator. ‘ 'I think we confront, at last, the folk of Ynys Scaith.''

  Corum ignored him and cut the ropes away from the woman's burned flesh.

  "Corum ..."

  Methodically Corum went amongst the folk of Fyean and he offered them his water bottle and those who were bound he untied. He looked nowhere else.

  "Corum!"

  Ilbrec's voice was more urgent and when Corum had finished his work and looked up he saw that Ilbrec and Splendid Mane were surrounded by tall, slim figures of a brownish yellow color, whose skins were seamed and whose hair was sparse.

  They wore little more than belts supporting large swords. The flesh of their lips was drawn back from their teeth, their cheeks were sunken, as were their eyes, and they had the appearance of corpses long preserved. When they moved, small pieces of dried skin or flesh fell from their bodies. If they had expressions upon their faces, Corum could not tell what they were. He could only stand and look upon them in horror.

  One wore a spiked crown set with sapphires and rubies. The precious stones seemed to contain more life than did his face and body. White eyes peered at Corum; yellow teeth clashed as the being spoke.

  "We are the Malibann and this island is our home. We have a right to protect ourselves against invaders.'' His accent was unusual but his words were easy to understand. "We are ancient ..."

  Ilbrec nodded a sardonic agreement. The Malibann leader was quick to notice Ilbrec's expression. He inclined his mummified head.' 'We use these bodies rarely," he said by way of explanation. ' 'But be assured that we have little need of them. It is not in physical prowess that we pride ourselves, but in our wizardly power."

  "It is great,'' agreed Ilbrec.

  "We are ancient," continued the leader, "and we know much. We can control almost anything we wish to control. We can stop the sun from rising, should we wish it."

  "Then why exact petty spite upon these people?" Corum asked him. "These are not the actions of demigods!"

  "It is our whim to punish those who invaded our island."

  "They meant you no harm. They were forced upon your shores by unkind elements.''

  Studying the horrible, decaying faces of the Malibann, Corum became slowly aware that in many ways they shared characteristics of features with the Vadhagh. He wondered if these were Vadhagh folk, exiled centuries before. Were they the original inhabitants of Ynys Scaith?

  "How they came—how you came—is immaterial to us. You came—they came—you must be punished."

  "Are all who land here punished?" Ilbrec asked thoughtfully.

  '' Almost all," said the leader of the Malibann. "It depends upon their reasons for visiting us."

  "We came to speak with you," said Corum. "We came to offer help in return for aid from you."

&n
bsp; "What can you offer the Malibann?"

  "Escape," said Corum, "from this plane—back to a plane more hospitable to you."

  "That matter is already in hand."

  Corum was astonished. "You have help?"

  "The Malibann never seek help. We have employed someone to perform a service for us."

  "Someone of this world?"

  ' ‘ Yes. But now we grow weary of conversing with such primitive intellects as yourselves. First we shall dismiss this filth."

  The eyes of the Malibann glowed a fiery red. There came a shrill, despairing wailing from the people of Fyean and then they had all vanished. And with them vanished the plain of hammered copper. Now Corum and Ilbrec and Splendid Mane stood in a hall whose roof had partially fallen in. Evening sunshine filtered through the gaps in roof and walls and revealed rotting tapestries, crumbling sculpture, faded murals.

  ' 'Where is this place?" Corum asked of the Malibann who stood in the shadows near the walls.

  The leader laughed. "You do not recognize it? Why, it is where all your adventures took place—-or most of them."

  "What? Within the confines of this hall?" Ilbrec stared around him in dismay. "But how could such a thing have been accomplished?"

  "We have great powers, the Malibann, and I, Sactric, have the greatest power of all, that is why I am Emperor of Malibann ..."

  "This isle? You style it an empire?" Ilbrec smiled faintly.

  "This isle is the hub of an empire so magnificent it would make your most marvellous civilization seem like the encampment of a baboon tribe. When we return to our own plane—from which we were banished by a trick—we shall reclaim that empire and Sactric shall reign over it."

  "Who is it that aids you in this ambition?" Corum asked. "One of the Fhoi Myore?"

  ' 'The Fhoi Myore? The Fhoi Myore are merely mad beasts. What help could they give us? No, we have a subtler ally. We await his return at this moment, Perhaps we shall let you live long enough to meet him."